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I have been writing since the primary grades of elementary school. I even still have a little bit of that work. To be fair, it is what one would expect of a second or third grade student. Most of those stories were for school assignments.
I started my first larger project in grade seven, out of a language arts assignment from a school reader. That story has never actually been finished, but generated a number of characters who have appeared in published novels and tales. But this was the first piece I remember taking home to write on. And I would continue to work on it and the stories of the various minor characters throughout high school and into university. Ultimately, at least two of the characters from that grade seven start would appear in my first published novel, although much altered from their early beginnings. I have been known to get lost in fleshing out worlds and characters. Some things change a lot in the process; some don't. It's an ongoing process and I'm always working on something. (The image attached to this post is of the Howling Wolf Books editions of my original Cemen Colony set, which are available, as of the posting of this, in both print and ebook) (Again, something from a high school assignment. Original date noted below.)
Mom was always a little strange, but when I came home one day to find her decorating the living room with Cheerios, I knew she was over the edge. I mean eating Cheerios is one thing, but looking at them all day and night is just too much. "What's with the cereal?" I asked her. "I thought this room looked too plain," Mom answered, "So I thought I would redecorate creatively." "What's for supper?" I tried to change the subject. It didn't work. "Cheerio casserole, spinach, and boiled Cheerio pudding." Came the sickening answer. I gagged and ran to my room. At least she hadn't gotten in. I still remember the time Mom tried to redecorate my room with big, yellowing, old fashioned books and pictures of them. It was three months before I got rid of the last one. Seriously, what teenager wants books like Webster's Two Volume Dictionary in their room. It only weighs a ton or two. But for now my room was the way I liked it. A few posters on the walls, a few things on the floor; not too clean, but nothing to complain about. I shut the door and threw my backpack at the closet. I'd deal with that later. I picked a comic from under the bed and tried to forget about the cheerios in the living room. Minutes later, Mom knocked on my door. "Do you mind if I put a few decorations in your room?" She asked as she stuck her head in the door. "Yes, I mind," I dropped my comic to the floor, "Could you please leave my room out of your redecorating plans?" Mom's face fell, but she left me alone until supper time. I was just dumping my schoolbooks on my desk when Mom called, "Supper time! Wash up and get to the table." I cautiously opened my door and almost knocked over a large plant pot full of Cheerios. I groaned. Then I gagged on the smell coming from the kitchen. "Hurry up!" Mom called from the dining room. I turned around and went back into my room. From the bottom drawer of my desk, I retrieved enough money to buy my own supper at a fast food place. As I snuck out of the house, I looked at Mom's new decorations. Ugh! I'd never seen so much cereal before. Everything, including the ceiling and floors, were covered in Cheerios. When I got back home, I found Dad waiting for me in the living room, which had been emptied of Cheerios. "Where's Mom?" I asked. "I sent her to live on the Funny Farm," He answered so quietly I could barely hear him, "Her last decorating idea was just too much for any sane person to have to live with." I agreed with him. Original date: Sept 5/96 (This was written for a junior high drama class, as noted by the date at the bottom)
Once, thousands of years ago, there was no moon. At night, the people could see only by the dim light of the stars. This wasn't enough light for people to truly see anything by. Many people became upset because they couldn't do things or go out at night. Some were afraid to go out. One night, a young woman named Moona, had a need to go out, but could not see to leave her home. She took animal skins and cut a circle from each thin scraped piece. She sewed these together to form a bag. Inside this bag, she poured oil and put a small chunk from her fire in it. Then she went outside and threw it into the air. The bag flew up and stuck in the sky among the stars. Her moon gave her enough light to travel by, but slowly, as time passed, the fire inside went out. Then, one night, it was gone. Moona could not see to go out any more. So she made a new moon and threw it into the sky. This was repeated once a month or once a moon, as Moona called the time her moon remained lit. Many years later, Moona made her last moon, then she died. Her spirit flew into the sky and even now, she makes each new moon when the old one goes out. Original date: May 15/96 |
AuthorAlexandra A. 'Lexa' Cheshire is the author of numerous novels and short stories published through Howling Wolf Books. Lexa is a wife, mother, cat owner, and music lover. Archives
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